


In the Honey Chain

by gloss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon divergences all over the place, Dragons...IN SPACE, F/F, Fuck that one canon event you really hate, Oral Sex, Space Florist Smugglers, Vaginal Fingering, Valkyrie from the Thor Movies is Here and Wants Your Women, casual cosmic hookups, ghost assignment pinch hit, light and pretty xeno, only valkyrie can rival rey for sheer lesbionic power, reference to dubcon, valkyrie's shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Rey misses one destiny, only to find another.





	In the Honey Chain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saiditallbefore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/gifts).

> I swear that I tried to ALSO include "all female characters are werewolves" and had even worked out just how that would work in outer space away from a single moon, but the deadline is looming and I am growing weary.
> 
> Title from the Throwing Muses [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTK1503_xB4):  
We're all honey  
Dripping through the honey chain  
And lay our lives down  
Down and pretty  
In the honey chain  


So far off to the side of the city bazaar that it is forever shadowed by the space port towers, the Green Market hosts legitimate trade as well as a variety of far quieter, more furtive deals.

Rey struggles to stay calm. This is not her first _sub rosa_ auction, but the stakes are higher than they've ever been. She keeps her arms crossed tightly, fists jammed into her armpits, and doesn't make eye contact with anyone. Her fellow attendees are a motley lot, every bit as star-weary as she, bags under their eyes and a set to their jaws.

There's one standout: a human lady taller than Rey, slender as a vine and draped in elegant silks. Her hair shimmers between the countless pinks that creep beyond dawn horizons. Rey can't take her eyes off her, but she needs to focus. If she flubs this deal, she doubts very much that Qi'ra will give her another chance.

The auction is conducted quietly, without any of the usual showmanship. The auctioneer speaks conversationally as his holo-projector displays footage of the goods; bids are made by tugging at one's left ear, head-tail, or palp, depending on anatomy.

"Now this is fairly interesting," the auctioneer says when they reach Lot #2187. "Pretty little flower, huh? Might make a good corsage for your sweetum or sweetums."

The crowd laughs appreciatively at the ironic understatement. The lot contains three self-pollinating riparian orchids, with complete root-systems, ready to add to any decadent waterscape, whether domestic or a corporate installation.

Rey's anxiousness spikes as the holo flower rotates. She calms herself as best she can and enters the bidding. She knows how much she has to spend, what she needs to get, and exactly how much profit she _might_ be able to scrape together if she's smart. Numbers cascade through her thoughts as she watches the auctioneer, the pink-haired beauty, and a very enthusiastic Rodian.

She bids well past her limit, into the zone where, once again, she will be in Qi'ra's debt.

She loses. The auctioneer cuts her off; she protests; she is removed bodil from the Green Market.

She doesn't let herself cry. She wants to, very much, but she doesn't. Slumped here in the space-port caf with a watery soup in a sack and the prospect of explaining to Qi'ra just how she managed to flub this, she does not cry.

_It's the easiest deal there is,_ Qi'ra said. She had one hand tangled in Rey's hair, thumb pressing just firmly enough against the hollow of Rey's throat to remain a constant warning. Her mouth was on Rey's as she spoke. _Do this, pretty girl, and the ship is yours._ She pulled gently on Rey's hair and dug her thumb into the soft flesh. _Don't do this, and we both know how I get when I'm disappointed._

She doesn't cry. Crying never helped anything.

The pink-haired woman from the auction takes the seat beside Rey. Rey touches her braids, straightens her posture, wonders how badly she smells after nearly a tenday in the cockpit. 

"Hello," the woman says. Her voice is soft and warm, warm as her hair. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Rey replies. "I'm fine."

"Sorry about the mess back there."

"The mess I made, you mean?" Rey shrugs when the woman starts to protest. "It's true. My mess. Got in over my head."

"The lot was very intriguing," the woman says. "Who could blame you?"

"Lots of people, actually." Rey sips at the tasteless soup.

"I wonder," the woman says, "if you'd be able to help me."

Rey snorts with laughter. "I'm not in any position to help _myself_, I don't think —"

"Hmm." She touches her chest, the way posh Core Worlders introduce themselves. "Amilyn Holdo."

"Rey."

"Hello, Rey." Her smile curves so beautifully. 

"What do you need help with?" Rey asks. She knows better, but she also doesn't want to stop speaking with this woman.

"Well," Amilyn says. "I believe you have a ship?"

"For the time being, yeah." Preemptive grief stabs at her; she can't lose the _Falcon_. She'll do anything to keep it.

"I have some cargo that I'd like taken care of."

"Disposed of?" Rey asks. "That kind of taken care of?"

"No, Rey." She covers Rey's hand with her own; her skin is very pale and soft. "_Cared for._ I think you're the one to do it."

Amilyn won the auction, it turns out, and needs a good pilot to take her and the flowers halfway around the rim. Rey agrees, at first solely because this means she'll have a good length of time to spend with one of the most beautiful women she's ever seen, let alone spoken to.

It's only when she's stowing the flowers that she realizes what she needs to do. She is deep in one of the _Falcon_'s most difficult to reach holds — behind the fuel monitor, up inside a panel that looks like a spare toolkit, and within that, behind a coil of obsolete cable — while Amilyn is up at the front of the ship. All the same, Rey claps her hand over her mouth to keep from squealing.

She'll take Amilyn nearly all the way, then fake a hyperfuel blowout three jumps before they reach their destination. When they set down for repairs, she'll make sure Amilyn has disembarked, then take off. She'll only be a few days late for the rendezvous with Qi'ra's representatives.

She hasn't double-crossed anyone since Unkar Plutt; he deserved it, but Amilyn doesn't. 

Rey wishes there were another way, but she's not going to pass this chance up out of sentimental wishes for a different world.

*

"It's not the most comfortable ship," Rey says when they're in hyperspace. "Or the prettiest —"

"It's fine," Amilyn says with a smile. She's curled up on the short banquette in the common area, a datapad in her lap. "Quite serviceable."

Rey bobs her head, nodding. She wants, simultaneously, to apologize for the _Falcon_ and make Amilyn see all of its virtures. "But it's fast."

"And offers excellent company," Amilyn says, swinging her legs to the floor and patting the banquette beside her. "Can you join me? Or are you busy with strange and complicated pirate maneuvers?"

For a moment, Rey doesn't know how to respond. Then Amilyn grins, and Rey realizes that she's being teased, and she grins back as she holds out her hand to Amilyn. 

"I'd love to join you," she says, "but I'd like even more if you'd visit the captain's bunk."

Amilyn squeezes her hand and blinks slowly. Her hair looks darker, duskier, in the low cabin light. "Why, Captain, I think that would be wonderful."

They're kissing before Amilyn has fully stood up. Their clothes are half-shed before they reach the door to Rey's cabin. Amilyn's body is slim and _strong_ in Rey's arms, her skin softer than flowers, her kisses deeper and more urgent than Rey could have imagined.

Between Amilyn's legs, a chrysanthemum blossom, thousands of pinks, soft and spongy, petals that taste like nectar to Rey's hungry tongue. Amilyn's hips undulate, her breasts fill Rey's blindly-questing hands, her voice sings and croons both surprise and encouragement, pleasure and demand. Rey's cheeks and chin and mouth are coated with pinkish syrup, sparkling-sweet, when Amilyn finally draws her upward, kissing her as she pushes Rey back agaisnt hte bulkhead and works her hand over Rey's mound.

Rey has taken much more than Amilyn's three slim fingers. Qi'ra has _forced_ much more than that. But as they twist and spread inside Rey, the pleasure that spirals outward through her is something new. It's bright and trembling, just this side of overwhelming. She bears down, fucks herself on Amilyn, and when she feels Amilyn smile into their kiss, the pleasure doubles, goes radiant.

They collapse, loose and sleepy, limbs tangled up. Amilyn has her arm around Rey's shoulder, Rey's cheek on her chest, and she caresses Rey's hair. 

"How does a solitary pirate learn to take care of the ladies so very well?" Amilyn murmurs later.

Rey cranes to meet her eyes, but she's too comfortable to move for real. "You're pretty inspiring."

"Charmer."

"It's true," Rey says. She sighs and moves her hand down to curl around Amilyn's far hip. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Well," Amilyn says, stroking the edge of Rey's ear now, "we need to get you out in society, then. Meet more, get some perspective."

Laughing, Rey buries her face against Amilyn's breast.

Later, when they've woken from dozing and visited the fresher, Amilyn cooks them a stir-fry to share. Somehow the ingredients, all of them from Rey's pantry, become delicious together, rather than ordinary. Rey has seconds, then hesitates before Amilyn laughs and pushes the rest toward her.

Her hair is loose, slightly frizzy, as she rests her chin in her palm and watches Rey eat. 

"Tell me how you got this ship?" Amilyn asks when Rey finishes. "One girl for a freighter this big.... It's impressive."

"I stole it," Rey tells her. Amilyn's look of shock is exaggerated enough that Rey laughs. "I did!" 

Amilyn leans closer. "You didn't."

"I did, I really did." 

Rey tells her how, back on Jakku, Unkar Plutt stole one of her best salvages. Three coils of distilled coaxium, intact and ready to use. If she'd been paid properly, she'd have been able to book passage off Jakku and have enough left over to start a new life.

Instead, he stole them, so she stole the _Millennium Falcon_ from him. She got through two hyperspace jumps before she was tracked and boarded by representatives of Crimson Dawn.

"The criminal syndicate," Amilyn says when Rey pauses. "They don't work with low-level junk dealers."

"They weren't there for Plutt," Rey explains. "Their leader had a bounty out for the ship."

"The Sith?"

"No, their new leader." Rey swallows and looks down at her hands. It feels wrong to even think about Qi'ra, let alone say her name, in the company of someone like Amilyn. "Qi'ra."

"Ah," Amilyn says, and her arm goes around Rey's waist, pulling her close so Amilyn can kiss Rey's neck. "I see, I think."

"I don't know what she wants with it," Rey say. "It's sentimental, she says. I can have it, though, once I pay off my debt to her."

"Sweetness," Amilyn says hesitantly. "No one pays off Crimson Dawn."

"One more job," Rey says and sits up straight. "That's all it will take."

When she speaks again, Amilyn sounds doubtful as well as _careful_. "You're sure about that."

"I have to be." Rey gets up and makes for the cockpit. "Sorry, need to check some data."

She curls up in the captain's chair and presses her lips together. Her face is _hot_, not out of shame, but perhaps from regret, or discomfort. She can't quite think clearly enough right now to sort out the names for what she's feeling.

She hears Amilyn cleaning up from their meal and hopes she'll head to a cabin to sleep. In the meantime, Rey instructs the nav computer to execute a subroutine to reorient the ship and come out hyperspace three jumps early.

She'll get rid of Amilyn, deliver the flowers, and then, _then_, she'll be free to think.

*

Rey is accustomed to sleeping in the captain's chair, so when she's jolted awake, she isn't confused by where she is.

She's confused by what she sees: where empty space ought to be, something black and scaly _seethes_ before the viewports. Gradually it resolves down to something the about half the size of the ship. Alarms start blaring and Rey punches at the controls. Nothing is broken, but they're out of hyperspace and — stranger yet — motionless.

According to all the coordinates, this area is empty. Nothing suggests the presence of a _ship-sized giant snake_ uncoiling before her.

"Ah, here we are," Amilyn says from behind Rey.

"Excuse me?" Rey checks every nav-database and astrographical guide, but nothing provides any help. "We're supposed to be headed for Gatalenta!"

"But you changed the coordinates," Amilyn says sweetly as she slides into the co-pilot's seat. "Didn't you?"

Rey is torn between denying the (entirely accurate) charge in order to argue and accepting it in order to move ahead. "Fine," she says finally. "I did."

"You want the orchids," Amilyn says.

"_Qi'ra_ wants the orchids."

"And you want your ship."

"Yes." Outside the cockpit, the snake turns to face the _Falcon_. Its snout sports pale whiskers. "What _is_ that?"

"Æsir serpent," Amilyn replies. She is as unruffled as ever. "Our guest's mount, I believe."

"Hey," a woman says from the back of the cockpit. "Got here as soon as I could, sorry about Fafner."

Rey jumps to her feet, hand on her blaster. Amilyn tries to grab her arm but Rey shakes her off. The woman is a little shorter than Rey herself, but more thickly built, very well-muscled. She's darker than Rey, even when she lived back on Jakku, with ringlets of hair and a knowing smile that says she's not at all intimidated by the blaster Rey's jabbing at her (generous, quite round and lovely) chest.

"Rey," Amilyn says, serenely amused, "this is the Valkyrie. Valkyrie, Rey."

"Hey," the Valkyrie says and tips up her chin. Her gaze moves appraisingly over Rey and her smile gets wider. "How you doing?"

"What are you doing on my ship?"

"Here to make you an offer," the Valkyrie replies. She slips past Rey and leans against Amilyn's chair, her hip jutting out. "Pretty in Pink here needs those orchids you've got hidden away. You hand them over, I'll buy out your debt and give you your ship."

Rey narrows her eyes. "Why?"

"Do you have any idea how many Okotyledonian people those orchids can feed?" Amilyn asks. For the first time, she is not serene, far from tranquil. If anything, she sounds as desperate and stretched-thin as Rey feels. "Thousands. _Thousands_."

"What are you talking about? They're flowers!"

"Their root-systems contain enough nutrients to satisfy the minimum requirements of a small Okotyledonian city for a week," Amilyn says. "They're starving."

Rey lowers her blaster. Outside the cockpit, the dragon's eye hovers like a golden moon. The Valkyrie cocks an eyebrow.

"So how about it?"

"Just like that," Rey says, "you want me to take my life in my hands? For people I've never even heard of?"

"Whether or not you've _heard_ of them," Amilyn says, strained, nearly angry, "they're hungry."

"I've been hungry," Rey says.

"So you'd think you'd have some sympathy," Amilyn says.

Their intimacy feels very, very far away now. Amilyn is tall and implacable, her gaze intent, her lips thin with strain. 

"You're not taking your life into your hands," the Valkyrie puts in. "Unless you forgot about the giant cosmic worm out there."

The dragon bares curving fangs and exhales a puff of steam that sets off the _Falcon_'s methane detectors.

"Crimson Dawn has moonblasters," Rey says. Her mouth is dry, her sinuses heavy and throbbing. She might as well be back on Jakku, hungry and sleepless, the sand irritating each and every pore on her skin. "Take half a fleet out in one shot. And their knives..."

She has seen firsthand what their knives can do.

"Sis," the Valkyrie says, "I've got a fucking _dragon_. And you, if —"

"If what?" Rey sits heavily on the arm to the captain's chair. 

The Valkyrie drops down to one knee. "If you'll have me."

Amilyn chuckles, low in her throat. "Adorable."

"What is she talking about?" Rey asks.

"She skipped the next four or five phases of the plan," Amilyn says, nudging the Valkyrie's shoulder playfully. "New to the throne, and she needs a queen. Looks like she's taken a shine to the pretty pirate."

Between them, the Valkyrie clasps her hands. Her cheeks are rounded with her grin, her eyes dark and sparkling. Rey can't help but smile back. "What do you say?"

*

Even Qi'ra can't say no to five times the deal price. She clearly _thinks_ about haggling, but Fafner is as persuasive as his mistress.

They drop Amilyn off on Takodana with the orchids safely taped to the inside of her silk cloak. Fafner dives into the sea while the _Falcon_ gets a tune-up. The Valkyrie and Rey retire to the honeymoon suite, accompanied by far too much innuendo from Maz Kanata.

"I'm not really marrying you," Rey says as they bounce back onto the most comfortable bed she's ever touched. "You know that, right?"

"Give me time," the Valkyrie replies.

"You barely know me!"

"So catch me up." She rolls onto her side and props her head in her hand. "I was a scavenger, too, you know."

"Yeah?" Rey asks. She wriggles closer, kisses the Valkyrie again, and squeezes one of her breasts.

"Sakaar, yeah."

"Jakku."

The Valkyrie whistles appreciatively; it's the same noise she made the first time she saw Rey naked. It makes Rey laugh all over again. "Jakku, huh? Pretty hardcore."

"What can I say?" Rey tugs her over until the Valkyrie sprawls over her. "Hardcore, that's me."

"And soft, too," the Valkyrie whispers, licking her lips and rolling her hips against Rey. "In all the best places."

Rey hasn't stopped smiling since she lowered her blaster, days ago.


End file.
